Of Good and Evil
by DawnieS
Summary: Good always defeats evil, Henry says, and she'll take that from him because he is a child and doesn't know any better. The others don't have that excuse.


Of Good and Evil

Summary: _Good always defeats evil_, Henry says, and she'll take that from him because he is a child and doesn't know any better. The others don't have that excuse.

* * *

i.

"Good always defeats evil," Henry shouts up at her, his eyes wide and filled with accusation and betrayal. "You should know that better than anyone!"

She is dimly aware of everything around her – the forest, Ruby's still body, Gold's pensive expression, the magic closing in around the portal, choking it. But none of it matters, none of it makes any difference, because all she can see is the pain and heartbreak in Henry's eyes.

When she holds him in her arms and he begs her to have faith in him, she feels as though her heart is about to break. He has no idea what he is asking of her – and he has no idea what it truly means to be afraid. He sees her as the Evil Queen, but she has never once intentionally hurt him, and he simply does not understand what evil is capable of.

He doesn't understand pain, either.

Pain is hearing him call Emma _Mom_ and rush to the blonde woman with eagerness and joy.

Pain is having his hand slip out of hers as he heads off to have dinner with Emma and Mary Margaret and David.

Pain is Gold's words, so simple, so calm, and so deadly accurate.

"Congratulations, you've reunited mother and son. Perhaps one day they will invite you to dinner."

ii.

She isn't even _surprised_ to find her mother standing in the middle of her house when she wakes in the morning.

Her face is still stained with the tears that she would not let fall in front of anyone else, and the dark circles under her eyes are a testament to how little she has slept. Her nights are filled with nightmares, but this particular nightmare has come to life and is standing in front of her with a soft smile.

"Oh, Regina," Cora murmurs, and reaches up to gently trace the track of a single solitary tear down her daughter's cheek. Her voice is light and sympathetic and so invitingly warm, as though she wants to offer all the sympathy that she was never capable of when Regina was young.

"Mother," Regina says stiffly, but she does not flinch away from the woman's touch.

"Love is weakness," Cora reminds her. "All it brings is pain."

Regina thinks of Henry. When he was younger, he would look at her with such adoration, and though it took a long time for his unconditional love to soften the ice around her heart, eventually she had grown to love him so intensely that he had become her entire world. Those moments, when the mere sight of her would bring a smile to his face… those moments had been worth everything to her.

But then his love faded – and maybe her mother is right. Maybe love is weakness.

But she still loves Henry.

And, damn it, she still loves her mother.

"I know," she whispers, her throat dry, and her mother pulls her into an embrace.

"I can help you," Cora says.

"At what price?" Regina asks. _All magic comes with a price_. Rumpelstiltskin used to say that, she remembers with a slight frown, and Gold said it to her when Henry ate the apple turnover, but she knows it is more than that. Magic is not the only thing that demands a price.

So does love, and hate, and life.

_Everything_ comes with a price.

"I can give you Snow's heart," Cora says.

Regina feels a thrill of excitement rush down her spine. She wants that – even now, even after all her promises to Henry. She wants the younger woman to suffer, wants to slowly rip away everything that her stepdaughter loves.

But…

There is always a but.

"I don't want that," she says. It's a lie, but she forces out the words anyway, because she still remembers the accusation and betrayal in Henry's gaze as they stood by the well, and she cannot do this to him.

"Then what do you want?" Cora asks.

Regina looks at her.

When she was just a child, her mother would brush her long hair and tell her that she was special, and that one day the world would see just _how_ special. When the storms rattled their home, when the thunder crashed in the sky and the lightning threatened to set the house ablaze, Cora would find her huddled under the blankets in her bed and tell her that she had nothing to fear because she was far more powerful than a storm. And though she was stern and demanding, Cora _always_ told Regina that she loved her.

"I want you to go," Regina says, and those are the five hardest words she has said in a long time.

Cora falters for a moment, then says, "We shall see, my darling."

"Yes, Mother," Regina says, because even after all this time, those two words come automatically to her lips.

* * *

iii. David practically knocks the door from its hinges.

Regina looks up and finds herself immediately surrounded. David is glaring at her, and Mary Margaret and Ruby stand on either side of him. Ruby looks livid, but there is something else in Mary Margaret's eyes, and Regina thinks it just might be fear.

Emma comes to stand beside her parents, and then Leroy, and then Gold.

There is a long scratch on Gold's arm. It is not deep, but it looks painful, and Regina smiles.

"I see our dear pirate it still determined to skin his crocodile," she says.

"He went after Belle," Gold says, and his voice is filled with raw fury. It shakes, and it makes _her_ shake. "He tried to use her as collateral."

Regina debates asking if Belle is alright, and then decides that she really does not care. Instead, she says, "I did warn you that things would be different this time. Now you have a weakness."

"You _knew_," David says, and though he is just as angry as Gold, his anger does not scare her. She has already watched him take Henry from her, and she thinks there is very little he can do to her that would hurt more than that.

"David," Mary Margaret starts, placing a calming hand on his arm, but David ignores her.

"You _knew_ your mother and Hook were here and you didn't _warn_ us? How are we supposed to trust you?"

Regina laughs. "You _don't_ trust me," she scoffs. "I highly doubt this changes anything."

"You should have told us," Emma says, all bluster and righteous indignation. "What is she comes after Henry?"

Regina narrows her eyes as fury courses through her. "Do you really think that thought had not occurred to me, Miss Swan?" she spits. "Do you truly believe that I haven't spent _every single second_ since Henry delivered Aurora's message thinking about what my mother would do if she found out about him?"

How dare Emma imply that Henry's safety was not the most important thing in the world to her?

"But the rest of us don't matter?" Ruby demands. "Belle? She didn't matter? Do you know what Hook almost did to her…?"

Regina's lips curl into a smirk. "Do I care?"

It happens too fast for her to realize that Gold has attacked her until she feels her head slam back against the wall. Her vision darkens at the edges and she blinks rapidly, refusing to let go of her tenuous hold on consciousness.

She has never seen Gold – or Rumpelstiltskin – lose control like this. He is good with words, able to cut and destroy with just a sentence. He can spot weaknesses his victim does not even know exist, and then exploit them. He can lie with a smile and manipulate with promise, and he rarely has to resort to such physical attacks.

She looks up at him and sees the rage in his eyes and knows that he did not plan this. For the first time in what she imagines is a very long time, he has acted without thinking.

That day, years ago, when she delivered news of Belle's supposed death to him, she saw the pain in his eyes. But she had never once imagined the depth of that particular emotion.

"We will defeat Cora," David says. "And if you join her, we'll defeat you, too. Good will win. It always does."

Regina climbs slowly to her feet.

No one helps her.

* * *

iv.

"You should have told us she was here," Henry says. "I thought you had _changed_."

Regina looks at him for a long moment, and can think of nothing to say, nothing he would understand.

* * *

v.

The air shifts, the wind turning cold, and a sudden swelling of power announces her presence before the purple smoke appears. And then four horrifying words.

"I saw your son."

Regina looks up at her mother and forces herself to say with careless dismissal, "He is not mine."

Cora raises an eyebrow. "Oh?" she asks, her voice laced with disbelief and suspicion. She understands the draw of love, she understands _Regina_, and Henry in her hands would be a terrifyingly destructive chess piece. Regina is hers – and every line on her face, every flicker of emotion in her eyes, every smile that curls the corner of her lips says that she will not let go of her claim.

No matter what it takes.

"He was, once," Regina says, and turns away from Cora. She looks around her house instead. "He chose someone else."

"Snow's daughter," Cora murmurs. She steps closer to Regina. "Love is weakness."

Regina smiles at the irony of that statement. "I know, Mother," she answers, and wonders if her mother understands that the only reason she is still alive is that, even after everything that happened between them and everything Cora will try to take now, Regina _still_ can't hurt her.

"You love him," Cora says.

Regina shakes her. "He is not mine," she repeats. "He does not love me." The words hurt, but she says them anyway, and forces herself to, once again, meet her mother's sharp gaze.

"And you do not love him?" Cora presses.

Regina shrugs. "Why would I plead for scraps of something he so willingly gives to everyone else? I am the _Queen_. I do not beg." Even as she says the words, though, she knows they are not true – she would beg and beg and beg if it meant Henry would look at her with the same love he reserves for everyone on the side of Good.

And yet… she thinks to herself that even though she spins lies for her mother, there is some truth in them. She is still a queen, underneath it all, and she does not want to beg. She does not want to be cast aside as she has been many times in the past. Her own parents, Leopold, even Snow, and now Henry…

She will happily be vilified, hated, reviled… just so long as she is not ignored.

"If you want his heart," Cora says casually, "just take it."

Regina freezes. The idea of ripping Henry's heart from his chest is so truly horrible that, for a single moment, she thinks her facade will crack and she will burst into tears.

Then she lifts her chin and answers, "I can command his obedience with his heart, but I cannot command his love."

She does not know how to obtain love. She knew at one point – or, at least, she must have, because Daniel loved her willingly and without any manipulations on her part. But she has forgotten this… or maybe Daniel was the only one who would ever love her without asking for anything in return. Maybe Daniel was all she was ever destined to have.

And now he is lost, and Henry…

"Love is…"

"A weakness," Regina interrupts. "I know." Her mother will not let this go, but she cannot talk about Henry for much longer, or the truth will accidentally pass her lips. So she says instead, "But he is just a boy. If I mean to take this town back, he will do me no good. I would rather reserve my strength for those who actually matter."

This is something her mother will believe.

Cora smiles. "Now you are thinking like a queen," she says with approval. "But tell me, Regina… why have you stopped using your magic?"

She knows the truth is not an answer she can give, so she casts about for one that is safe and will sound valid, and says finally, "I haven't had the need to use it yet. They all fear me, just knowing that I have my magic."

Cora considers this, then says pointedly, and with a hint of disapproval in her voice, "Rumpelstiltskin does not fear you."

"No. He fears _you_."

_And so do I_, Regina thinks, but does not say the words aloud.

* * *

vi.

Emma stands in the center of Mary Margaret's living room while Regina hovers in the doorway in awkward silence. They are alone, and for that Regina is thankful, because she knows that just looking at Henry would be her undoing.

She summons all her strength and says, "I think you should leave Storybrooke." Emma starts to protest, anger and disbelief coloring her expression, and Regina continues before the blonde can argue, "Take Henry."

"_What?"_

"Take Henry and run. Leave Storybrooke. Get as far away from this place and my mother as you possibly can."

The words stick, unwilling to be said aloud. She chokes them out, though they seem to take on physical form and scrape the inside of her throat raw.

"I… but… Mary Margaret and David… the whole town, they need me… I can't just…" Emma stammers with almost helpless desperation. It is clear from the conflicted expression on her face that she understands exactly what Regina is saying, and that she wants to keep Henry safe. But it is equally clear that she finally believes in something – her own power, perhaps, or her own destiny – and she cannot leave her responsibilities behind.

"Henry needs you," Regina hisses in reply, because she would willingly let the entire town burn if it meant keeping Henry safe from her mother. "He comes first, before _everything_. That is what it means to be a mother."

Emma nods, but does not look convinced, and Regina wants to scream.

Does the blonde truly not understand how impossibly hard it is for her to say these words? She is standing here in this miserable little house trying to convince her enemy to take Henry away _forever_, and Emma has the gall to act as though she is the one this will cost?

Regina shakes her head and questions softly, "Do you actually believe that you are the Savior? That you can protect everyone from my mother?" She bites back a laugh – the arrogance of Good never ceases to amuse her. "Don't be naïve."

"I defeated Cora once," Emma retorts, flushed in anger and embarrassment at the insult.

"You got _lucky_," Regina replies, "because my mother underestimated you. That is not a mistake that she will make more than once, and you will _not_ win this time."

"You don't think Cora will just follow me?" Emma asks pointedly. "She came from the sea, so clearly she has no trouble crossing the border of the town."

Regina looks at her, and says simply, "_Of course_ she will follow you. When she realizes she can't get me back, she will go after Henry. But I will do what I can to stop her."

"And after she kills you?" Emma questions, evidently not believing that Regina will be able to stop Cora. "After she kills everyone else?"

Regina shrugs, because what does she have left to live for at this point? When she closes her eyes at night, all she sees is her mother's triumphant smile and the look of betrayal in Henry's eyes.

"Well, at least I will have given you a head start."

* * *

vii.

There is nothing left of her.

She stands by the window and stares out at the apple tree with its rotting fruit and wonders what she is supposed to do now. She has slowly, methodically, cut every tie that anchored her to reality, cut away everything that made her the person she was.

No magic.

She gave Henry her word, and she will do her damnedest not to break it. But magic has been her entire life. She has breathed it, dreamed it, lived it. Without it, she doesn't know who she is anymore. The Evil Queen needed magic to rule, but she does not want to be the Evil Queen. The Mayor did not need magic, but she still had the power that came with it – she had been the only one to remember what everyone else, save Rumpelstiltskin, forgot.

She wonders if Henry even realized what he was asking of her when he demanded that she not use magic. Did he know that magic was a part of her? Did he know that it had wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed until she had given up fighting? Did he know that, without it, all she felt was empty?

Of course, Henry does not know any of those things. He has never been touched by magic, has never felt its draw, its temptations. He has never experienced just how quickly it can twist a soul when given enough pain and anger to feed on – and she hopes that he never will know any of that.

Henry sees only that magic is bad, that it corrupts. And he is right about that; magic _does_ corrupt. Even good magic, for all its promise of happiness, comes with a price.

And she will willingly pay that price if it means that Henry never does.

But she still doesn't know what to do. She is trying her best not to be the Evil Queen, and not to be the Mayor, but she has little else she can be. Without Daniel, she is definitely not the young woman who believed in true love and happily ever afters. And without Henry...

What is she?

She turns away from the apple tree and thinks it painfully ironic that the one thing she has left, the one thing that has not been stripped away, is the one thing she is running from.

Despite everything, she is still her mother's daughter.

* * *

viii.

The first thing she sees is the smoke.

It billows into the sky, a heavy black fog that obscures the sun and covers everything with an acrid scent. Beneath it, the remains of Granny's diner lie scattered along the street. Among the rubble, she can see the bodies – Ruby, Archie, one of the dwarves, and a few others she does not recognize. They are still, lifeless.

Dead.

Regina stands there, gaping in horror and bewilderment.

David and Mary Margaret come rushing up behind her, and David immediately begins shoving aside the cement and brick as he scrambles to reach anyone who might still be alive.

"Red! No, _no_…!"

Granny throws herself on her granddaughter's body, screaming, and Mary Margaret chokes back a sob before hurrying to join her Charming. Then there are even more people there, and the crowd grows and grows. There is panic and pandemonium and crying, and in the chaos she is largely forgotten.

Then Mary Margaret turns and calls out to her. "What happened?"

A sudden silence, and all eyes are on her.

She shakes her head and says hoarsely, "I only saw the smoke."

"You expect us to believe you had nothing to do with this?" a voice growls, a threat, but Regina finds she does not have the strength to respond.

Another voice adds, "She _is_ the Evil Queen. Who else would do something like this?"

"I say we burn her!" cries a third.

"Oh, how cliché," Regina murmurs tiredly. The accusations do not bother her, and she can't even argue against their suspicions. After everything she has done in the past, what right does she have to anyone's trust now?

"Regina," Mary Margaret says again, and to her credit, she keeps her tone even and her words measured, "do you have any idea what happened?"

Magic leaves an impression behind, like a fingerprint. Regina reaches out tentatively, extending her arm and spreading her fingers so that she can feel the power that vibrates in the air. It is familiar – warm and soothing and cold and terrifying all at once.

She drops her arm and lets out a breath. "My mother," she says simply.

But that does not make sense, and Regina frowns. Why would Cora do this? Her mother does not kill for amusement. She kills for power, and for control; she kills preemptively to protect herself; and she kills for revenge. But she has never killed – never even _destroyed_ – merely for fun. And she does not kill if it does not serve her purposes.

"She's probably in league with her mother!" one of the dwarves growls. "They're plotting against us together."

Regina ignores him.

Her mother might kill Mary Margaret for Regina's sake, or kidnap Belle to gain power over Gold, but this… this feels _wrong_.

Cora may not kill solely _for_ fun, Regina knows, but she does take pleasure in doing it. She enjoys the triumph, particularly if the person she is besting is a long time foe. If she had been after Gold, she would have wanted to kill him personally so she could relish watching him die. If she had been after Belle, she would have killed her in front of Gold so that she could watch him lose what he loved most…

Cora would only do this if there was someone in the diner she needed destroyed and yet had no personal feelings towards. Someone who was a threat, but not necessarily a personal enemy.

There is only one person in the entire town who fits those criteria, and the thought comes to Regina's mind just as David pushes away several chunks of stone and brick and she catches a glimpse of a navy blue cloak and a white collar partially obscuring a lifeless face.

The Blue Fairy is dead.

* * *

ix.

"Don't tell me you're actually going to mourn her," Cora says as she joins Regina at the window.

"Of course not, mother," Regina answers. A crowd has gathered in front of her house. Again. They've been there for two days now, ever since the destruction of the diner. She knows they are waiting for an opportunity to catch her unawares so that they can vanquish her. They've condemned her for the Blue Fairy's death even though she had nothing to do with it, and nothing will change their minds.

"Good," Cora says. "Fairies are quite irritating."

A smile curves Regina's lips. "Yes," she says, "they are," and this, at least, is something she and her mother can agree on without any pretense.

She turns away from the window, unwilling to watch any more.

Cora reaches up and smooths down a wayward strand of her daughter's hair. "I only want what is best for you, Regina," she says. "I've only ever wanted that. I know you thought I was cruel at times, but I was only trying to help you grow into your full potential."

Regina steps back. "Did I make you proud?" she asks, and even though she means the question to be bitter and mocking, she cannot stop the tiniest hint of longing from slipping into her words.

"Yes," Cora replies. "You became a queen. Even after what you did to me, I was still so proud of you." She smiles, and there is genuine warmth in her eyes. "Or perhaps I was proud of you _because_ of what you did. Because you finally embraced what you were capable of. Magic."

"Well," Regina says, and this time her words are biting and sarcastic, "at least one of us was happy."

"The stable boy was not your happy ending," Cora said firmly. "You were young… just a child, and blinded by your ridiculous notions of true love."

"Do you love me?" Regina asks.

"Of course," Cora replies, "and it hurts when you push me away. It hurts when you say you hate me. But you are my daughter and I have to do what is best for you. I always have." She pauses, studying Regina carefully, before pressing, "Wouldn't you do what was best for your child, even if it meant he hated you?"

Regina does not answer.

"You are a queen, Regina. Use your magic, use your power. Snow and her Charming have taken this town from you, so take control again. Take this town _back_."

"Do you really think it will be that easy?" Regina counters, gesturing towards the window. "You've seen the crowd that wants my head."

"They don't have magic," Cora retorts.

"Gold does," Regina answers.

Cora smiles enigmatically. "Don't worry, I've already taken care of him." She waits, but when Regina has no more arguments left, she says, "Take the town. It's yours."

"I… I don't want it," Regina says finally, and finds herself surprised to realize that those words are completely true.

"Then what _do_ you want?" Cora demands. "To be alone? To feel empty? You've lost sight of who you are, who you can be. You need to find yourself again; put your feet back on solid ground. How else will you get your happiness back unless you just _take it_?"

Anger flares inside Regina's chest, and she grabs the emotion and holds onto it tightly because it is the closest she has come to feeling like herself since Emma and Mary Margaret returned to Storybrooke.

"I haven't been happy since you killed Daniel!" she snarls. "Alone? Empty? That is what _you_ made me, mother. All of this, everything I have done… this is because of you."

Cora laughs. "Oh, my darling," she says, "don't be such a child. _You_ did this. I ended your ill-advised infatuation with that stable boy, but you made every subsequent decision yourself. Your obsession with Snow, your dealings with Rumpelstiltskin, the lives you took, the casting of the curse… that was all _you_." She turns away from her daughter and gazes out the window at the ever present mob. "Perhaps if I had been by your side I could have helped you, guided you. I could have shown you how to truly use your power. You have come far, but you could still be so much more if you just stopped focusing on petty revenge."

Regina narrows her eyes. "I could be more powerful than a queen?" she scoffs.

Her mother smiles. "So much more. I can show you how to protect yourself against loss, against pain, against emptiness. I can show you how to rid yourself of all your doubts and all your hurts and all your weaknesses." She extends her hand towards Regina. "Come, my darling. Let me show you how to be strong."

* * *

x.

But she should know by now never to trust her mother's words, and when the magic rushes through her, when her world turns on its axis and spins out of control, she knows she is still every bit as much a fool now as she was all those years ago when she truly believed that she and Daniel could find their happy ending.

"Stop," Regina cries as she falls to her knees.

Cora does not stop. She presses her hand onto the top of Regina's head, forcing her magic into Regina's body.

"Magic is power, Regina," she says, "and I am giving you the greatest gift I can."

"I don't… want…" Regina stutters and stammers, and tries to force her mother's magic back out of her body.

But she can't.

Magic is an addiction. Cora's magic is stronger than Regina's – possibly even stronger than Gold's. Cora gives herself to it completely, lets it twist her into something barely even human, and Regina knows that she will soon become like her mother. She can't stop this, and as the magic slowly fills the hole in her chest, she starts to think that maybe she doesn't want to.

* * *

xi.

David holds his sword in front of him, and Mary Margaret has her bow and arrows, and Regina just laughs.

"Do you really think you can stop me?" she asks, flicking her wrist idly and throwing David into the nearest wall. His head hits the plaster with a sickening crack and he slides to the floor, unconscious.

"Charming!" Mary Margaret cries and rushes towards her fallen beloved. Regina watches with detached amusement – this means nothing to her. _Mary Margaret_ means nothing to her.

"I used to waste so much time trying to hurt you," Regina muses quietly, "and for what? What good did your suffering ever do for me?" She stares thoughtfully at the two heroes for a moment, then shakes her head. "My mother was right. I can be so much _more_."

"Regina…" Mary Margaret begins, anger and fear fighting for control in her voice.

"This is _my_ town," Regina says, speaking over Mary Margaret. She looks at the others in the room – the dwarves huddles against the wall, the few fairies that are left hiding in the pews, the assorted nobles and peasants who could never stand up to her – and smiles. "You live because of my mercy. And you will die if I wish it. I suggest that you not forget that."

"You won't win," Mary Margaret spits out, her face flushed and her eyes burning furiously. "Good will win, good _always_ wins!"

Regina ignores her. "I want more than just this town, though. There are worlds everywhere, all touching each other." Her eyes roam over the assorted townspeople before her. "And they will _all_ be mine, every single one. Those of you who help me conquer them will be rewarded. Those of you who do not wish to join in the fighting will be left alone to lead whatever life you can make for yourself. But those of you who try to stop me…" she looks straight at Mary Margaret, "you will be punished."

"Uh… Mayor Mills… your Majesty…" a voice calls out hesitantly, and Regina turns her focus to the speaker, "you said we would be left alone. If we don't join you in the fighting, we can just… live our lives? You'll… not come after us? Not harm us?"

Regina nods benevolently. "I will require taxes from you. And those of you who have particularly useful skills may be required to help me on occasion. But nothing more." She folds her arms over her chest. "I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to waste my time on those of you who have nothing to offer me." Her voice hardens. "But I will _not_ tolerate rebellion."

A silence meets her words.

This is power, she thinks. This feeling of completeness inside of her, this vibration of magic in her veins. Her mother was right – perhaps her mother had been right all along. Now that she has given up her need for revenge against Mary Margaret and her desire for Henry's love, she can focus on becoming more than the ruler of a single realm; she can rule them _all_.

She walks out of the room, leaving the townspeople behind. They can argue amongst themselves, determine what they want to do. And tomorrow, once they have had plenty of time to make their own decisions, she will hunt down the ones who still oppose her and punish them.

Her mother waits for her in the hallway, holding a bundle in her hands.

"That was very nicely done," she says.

"All this time it was my own anger holding me back," Regina says. "My anger kept me so weak, so… _human_. But now that I've put that aside, I can move forward. And there is still so much to do." She furrows her brow in contemplation. "And I must start with figuring out how to get past the town limits."

"We _will_ figure out how to remove that spell. But in the meantime…" Cora holds up the bundle, "a present, my daughter. Just for you."

Regina takes the cloth reverently and stares at it. "How did you… how did you even know about this?" she breathes, scarcely daring to believe that her mother may have successfully rid her of the greatest threat. "I've never heard a single mention of it before."

"Of course not," Cora agrees. "It was a well guarded secret. But I have my methods." She pauses before adding, "I had to kill the Blue Fairy, of course, because there was no way to control her. But it seems like such a waste to destroy _everyone_ with magic. Particularly when the person in question could be so _useful_."

"True," Regina agrees. She unravels the bundle slowly, letting the cloth fall to the ground, and stares at the slender dagger in her hands. She traces a finger carefully over the engraved letters spelling out the name Rumpelstiltskin, feeling the cold metal beneath her skin.

The magic inside of her hums, and she smiles.

* * *

xii.

There is a wall around her heart. Emotions sometimes slip past – a flare of fury, a burst of amusement – and she feels them in a detached sort of way. Mostly she just feels contentment. She is in control again, she has power, and there is no anger or emptiness inside of her to slowly eat away at the twisted remains of her soul.

Then the cracks appear.

At the library, Regina catches a glimpse of her mother staring at a map of Boston. Later, she sees her mother flipping through the spell book with a contemplative expression on her features, and even later she watches her mother read over the words of a tracking spell.

She is chopping vegetables when the realization comes, and the wall around her heart splinters and shatters. But instead of the anger she expects to feel, it is mind-numbing fear that races through her body and leaves her gasping for breath. She clutches at the kitchen counter to keep herself upright. The magic her mother gave her starts to drain away, and she grabs at it desperately, holding onto the fragments in the hopes that they will keep her sane.

The emptiness is encroaching upon her once more.

Her mother is standing in the doorway, and she senses the change and stares at Regina with wide eyes.

"How…?"

"You're going after Henry," Regina says flatly.

"He's a loose end, one that needs to be tied up. He doesn't matter, Regina," her mother says sharply. "You can't let your feelings for him get in the way of who you are becoming."

"If he doesn't matter, why are you so determined to find him?" Regina asks. "Why can't you just let him be?"

"He's a weakness, Regina. Your weakness." Cora moves to her side and grabs her arm. She stares at Regina imploring, silently begging for her to understand. It is clear that she does not want to fight, and Regina does not want to fight either.

But this is _Henry_.

"The power I gave you made you happy, didn't it?" Cora murmurs. "It covered up the pain, the hurt… it made you feel strong." When Regina doesn't answer, her grip tightens and she presses, "Didn't it make you happy, Regina?"

"Yes," Regina whispers truthfully. "Yes, it made me happy. It made me feel whole."

"And what did Henry make you feel?"

Regina doesn't answer, but instead turns towards the counter fully, leaning her weight against it. She thinks that at some point Henry must have made her feel special, feel whole, but she can't remember it. The magic has clouded her mind and her memories, and the world is spinning around her, and all she feels is pain.

Her hand slips and knocks into a knife. It clatters to the floor, and the cut carrots and celery follow soon afterwards. She bends down to retrieve the items, but Cora uses her magic to replace everything back on the counter.

Regina closes her eyes.

"You will always be second-best to him, Regina," Cora whispers. "You will never be good enough. Is this how you want to feel for the rest of your life? Weak? Unloved? Empty? Is this what you want?"

"No…" Regina forces out the word.

She wants the contentment, the peace, that she felt before. She wants the control and the order. She wants to go back to how everything was when she stood in that hallway and held the dagger in her hands and knew that there was no one left with the power to hurt her.

"Come, my darling," Cora says softly, running her fingers through Regina's hair, "let go of this. Of him. Let me help you. I'm your mother, I only want what is best for you."

Regina loves her mother. She knows it is a weakness, knows it only causes pain. But she cannot help it. Despite everything, she loves her mother and needs her approval. She needs the comfort and the warmth, needs the consistency of having her mother always there, always looking out for her.

She needs to feel loved.

And yet...

Regina opens her eyes, and the first thing she sees is the knife. "You have to do what is best for your child, Mother," she says, her fingers closing around the smooth wooden handle, "but I have to do what is best for mine."

xiii.

There is blood on her clothing and her skin and her hair, and she thinks that no matter how many showers she takes, she will never feel clean again.

She sits on the floor next to her mother's dead body and feels the last of her mother's magic drain away. Her own power has long since gone, disappearing as soon as she gave up her hold on it. There is an emptiness in her heart that is steadily expanding and a feeling of horror that she knows will never fade.

It is Mary Margaret who finds her.

"Regina?"

"When I tore out my father's heart," Regina whispers, staring down at the knife still clutched in her hand, "it was to get revenge on you. I did it because I felt hatred and I wanted vengeance and I was willing to kill for it." She looks over at her mother. "But this was to protect Henry. This I did out of love, because I love him enough to kill to keep him safe." She raises her eyes to Mary Margaret's face and asks with a bitter and half-crazed laugh, "Do you think that the distinction matters?"

"Regina," Mary Margaret says, inching closer and extending her hand, "please give me the knife." Regina doesn't move, and so Mary Margaret says again, "Regina, _please_."

"I can feel it, you know. The emptiness. The magic… it's gone. I think I finally got rid of it. I think I… I love Henry so much that the magic is just… it has no hold on me." She laughs again, and the laugh sounds dark and cold even to her own ears. "So why do I still feel so empty?"

"The knife," Mary Margaret pleads, and takes another step closer. "Please, Regina, just give me the knife…"

"I wanted the town. I wanted the world. I wanted _every_ world. I wanted to be in control, wanted the hurt to just _stop_. But not as much as I wanted Henry." Regina sighs and hands over the knife.

Mary Margaret takes it and quickly drops it in the sink. Then she kneels down at Regina's side and tentatively places a hand on her arm. "It's over," she says softly. "It's over, Regina. All of it."

"Over?" Regina asks numbly as her eyes move back to her mother's body. Her lips curve into a sardonic smile, but all she feels is cold as she asks, "Does that mean good defeated evil like it always does?"


End file.
